


Repairs

by buttercuppoisoning



Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, blues is at home with his family, everyone is happy, i'm weak for cute aus where everything is ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2017-03-08
Packaged: 2018-08-15 12:01:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8055523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercuppoisoning/pseuds/buttercuppoisoning
Summary: Blues is being repaired after a reckless mission, but can all the damage be fixed as easily and quickly as he hopes?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> jsyk i've never written jack shit for this fandom before so bear with me. its also 1 am  
> EDIT: FIXED THE REPEATED PARAGRAPH

 

 When he finally comes to, he can immediately tell that his shades have been removed from the blurry haze in his vision, lights out of focus and nothing more than bright circles above his head, causing him to squint.

  A radio faintly plays his favorite music station. Blues almost instinctively reaches up to make sure that his eyes are covered anyway out of courtesy, Dr. Light always seemed to be fairly kind about that, but his arms are strapped down firmly to something, and Blues thinks he knows exactly what it is as he recognizes the sensation of multicolored wires plugged into his back.

  Glancing down, he finds he is, once again, sat on the familiar lab table he had found himself on time and time again after reckless endeavors and suicide missions. His chest plate was removed to access the colorful wires inside, spilling over his chest. A few oil stains pepper his clothing paired with tears and rips, cracks fracturing his boots, and he finds, with increasing discomfort, that his scarf had been hung on the coat hanger in the doorway-presumably by Roll-to prevent it from getting too dirty during the work being done on his body.

  The robot sighs- another foolish and impulsive attempt at protecting a large family of seven left on the streets during a messy evacuation from being run over by a runaway automatic truck that was blazing through the slums at 300 miles per hour. He had tried to stop the truck from the front, and succeeded, but completely wrecked his arm joints in the process and almost destroyed his hands as well, along with some internal damage from the pressure and speed that he wasn’t built to handle.

  He managed to plant some deep craters in the concrete from trying to get all the leverage he could manage and subsequently damaged his feet and legs- it was safe to say some repairs were needed on the young robot after he had warped home and stumbled into the lab, sparks flying from tears in his synthetic skin. Blues clenches his fists, testing the old joints of his hands. How far had the repairs actually gone before he had woken up? The room was surprisingly empty, though he could hear footsteps somewhere else in the lab. A discarded wrench sits on the rolling desk beside the lab table along with a pile of parts, dented metal plates, and other various junk that he could only assume had likely been removed from his body. Black fluid drips from a discarded E-Tank and he sighs, shutting his eyes.

  Right as he was about to drift back to rest, Dr. Light and his children come bounding back into the room and Blues jolts, eyes snapping open.

  Roll steps over a lost screwdriver lying on the floor and chides her father for his messiness in the frenzy to get working, gently smacking him on the arm, shifting the rolling table to the side as a couple of lone rusty screws bounce off her red mary-janes. Rock leans down behind her to pick them up and place them back in their tin before Roll stops what she’s doing again to clean up the mess in the room and wastes more time- or worse, she gets mad at him for the mess.

  The young robot lifts the wrench from the desk and turns to Blues, preparing to get back to work, before she stops in her tracks. “…Oh! You’re awake!” She hums in surprise, glancing at Blues and smiling at him, holding back laughter from his expression that’s still clearly shocked and irritated from the sudden intrusion.

  “He is?!” Rock gently pushes past his sister eagerly and Dr. Light lightly gestures for both of them to get out of the way, brushing past them as they obediently move and taking a clipboard from the bottom level of the desk. He affectionately runs a hand through his oldest son’s hair with his free hand and picking out a tiny fragment of metal stuck in the thick caramel locks, carefully making sure there's no surface damage to his face.

  “How are you feeling, Blues? Any coordination or comprehension errors? Your power appears to be stable from the reading so that doesn't seem to be an issue at the moment, but I’d just like to make sure you’re alright- I’d be dearly upset if something happened to you and you were not able to recover,” he frets, rambling on and on until the sentences break into fragments mumbled under breath, a hand raised to his chin as he thinks.

The scientist opens his mouth to speak again, clearer this time, and Blues weakly interrupts.

 

 

> “Doc, I’m f- _f- **f-f-**_ “

  He can hear the buzz of static sparking up as his speech fails, voice synthesizer damaged more than he thought. Blues wouldn't expect that something requiring physical force could affect it at all, since he hadn't used his voice for much more than barking orders. But perhaps the pressure on his neck as it snapped back from the force could've dislocated the voice box and decalibrated its connections? The pitch jumps around as he tries to explain until it finally _skip-skip-skips_  and he gives up on his attempt, grimacing. Dr. Light falters in his movement, musing worriedly under his breath. Rock takes the sleeve of his oil-stained lab coat like a toddler on the first day of kindergarten, cyan eyes shining with concern.

  “Is he gonna be okay, Dad?” Roll nods, taking his other sleeve, equally worried about her big brothers’ state. Dr. Light quietly writes and hastily reassures them, messily taking notes on the stack of papers clipped to the metallic clipboard with a bright blue pen printed with images of Mega Man.

  “Well, if I can reconnect the artificial synthesizer to the pitch calculator and emotional sensors it shouldn’t be too difficult to fix the speech problems, since it appears the issues are coming from there if you closely look at the bulge where it should be in his neck, but the artificial ligaments connecting his limbs are already fragile enough and if I’m not exceedingly careful, chances are that his head could pop off from the pressure of the speakers activating and deactivating when he starts and stops speaking if they already took so much damage and shifted the placement of his voice systems just from the force of the accident,” Dr. Light mutters, beginning to pace back and forth.

  None of the children were listening all too intently, as hard as they tried to, and Rock blinks in confusion, though Roll seems to have a vague understanding through her father’s muddled speech and mumbling. She's used to it by now, and took the skill at understanding his nonsense with pride as it greatly assisted her in her goal to become a robot nurse- he had already taught her so much, though Rock had a little more trouble understanding his tired stream of thought. Dr. Light stops in his tracks, shoes squeaking on the floor as he almost trips on a box of tools in his daze before sheepishly summarizing his thoughts in a way that was thankfully easier to understand. “Ah…I have to replace some other parts before I fix his speech system, and it might take a while before he can talk properly, since I need to do these particular repairs neatly and carefully to avoid future issues.” Blues sighs deeply, sound still corrupted, knowing this was another reason for Rock to drag him around and yell at him and play board games all day because now he had to find some way to communicate his thoughts and Rock would positively insist on being the one to help with his whole "noble hero" complex.

 

  Blues tiredly raises a thumb on his mostly-repaired hand, barely visible from the bindings pinning tit down to the table .He'd better get used to the caring and passionate robots' company if he wanted to emotionally survive the lengthy repairs, his thoughts a cluster of dread as Roll gently slips his wires back into their proper places, shutting the chest plate, Dr. Light lifting another set of tools and setting it on the rolling desk.

This was going to be a long experimental period,


	2. UPDATE (not fic)

hey fam  
as you might have noticed i havent updated this in like 100 years  
i dont really view blues this way anymore and dont like the way i wrote him here so i might rewrite the first chapter or change this into some sort of au  
description and tags will change accordingly if i do


End file.
